Sleepy Hollow: The Mixtape
by RBGzMom
Summary: Not even death will keep me from my Ichabbie! A collection of one-shots and possible AU. Never Katrina or Reynolds friendly. I own nothing. Fox is responsible for that BS on your screen.
1. Chapter 1

**How Did You Get Here** {One Shot}

 **Season three canon compliant until after Abbie's return**

 _ **For Zee**_

Freshly showered she descends the staircase lost in her own private scolding.

 _He risked his life and soul to bring me out of the Catacombs and I still can't open my damn mouth and tell him the truth. The way he held and stroked my hand in the Archives made me want to strip off all my clothes and spread out on the nearest flat surface and offer myself to him like an all you can eat buffet. We belong to each other I only wish I had the courage to claim him._

The light from the fire illuminates the room. Abbie sways to the soulful voice sipping from her glass of rum before easing her heartache by singing along.

 _ **How did you get here…nobody's suppose to be here…I tried that love thing for the last time…My heart…**_

She wipes the tears from her eyes. _Damn his beautiful, sexy British ass!_

"Lieutenant, are you unwell. Is there some relief I can provide?" Crane asks from the stairs. He has removed his jacket, boots, and stockings clearly prepared to retire for the evening.

She holds up her glass in mock triumph, "Couldn't be better, but thanks for asking," she chuckles dryly.

He descends the remaining three steps in his bare feet and steps with purpose to stand before her. He places his right arm behind his back, palm facing up. He extends his left hand gesturing for the glass.

Abbie exhales a deep, exasperated sigh and places the glass in his hand. Crane examines the rim of the glass until he finds what he is searching for-her lip print. He knows she is observing him. He turns his lusting eyes to her and attaches his mouth to the print and takes a long drag of the rum.

When she gasps he pulls the glass from his mouth and uses his loquacious tongue to lick his lips. "Ms. Mills, if you would be so kind to identify who has taken residence within your heart without your permission. I will most certainly remove them."

Abbie's body betrays her and she clutches the couch to stay upright. "I…what…no…it is not like that," she stammers.

"Are you certain? For I will give you anything you ask of me," he places the glass on the table. He hears the shift in her breathing-short and shallow. Crane dares a glance down at her heaving, ample cleavage. _The doorway to heaven begins there._

Abbie waves her free hand dismissively looking at the floor and shaking her head. "I am just having one of those days-or in my case years. I will pull it together," she offers as a means of vague explanation.

"Aww, yes…I have those days often: a day when my desire to demonstrate the love and passion I hold for you cannot be contained; a day when my need to declare my devotion to you nearly robs me of speech; a day when my unbridled lust for you allows me to consider tearing the flesh from my bones," his eyes roam her face and body committing ever micro-expression to his eidetic memory.

 _This mother fucker is giving me a life altering orgasm with his voice and declaration of love._

Abbie pants, pulls her hair, squeezes the back of her neck and clutches both breasts. She stumbles toward the stairs stripping out of her berry wine t-shirt, unfastening her bra and yanks down her pajama shorts to reveal her dripping, overheated pussy.

She spreads her body open for him against the stairs and props up on her elbows, "I beg of you. Fuck me until there is nothing left," she commands.

Crane arrives before her in three strides: step one, removes his shirt; step two, he steps out of his pants and undergarments; step three, he kneels before her, "I worship at your alter." He places a tender kiss to the center of her forehead.

Crane raises both hands and uses only the fingertip of his long, pornographic hands to touch every inch of flesh. Abbie grasps the stair rails writhing at the erotic, never ending touch, "Dear God…someone save me," she shouts as she squirts her release.

Crane stands and stretches out over her bracing himself with one hand against the step above her. He strokes the underside of his cock and bows his head to her. "As I understand modern medicine will prevent our off spring at this time?"

Abbie is two orgasms in and barely coherent. "What? Yes, no babies," she continues to pant.

"Very well, I only pray that I have the strength and stamina to express the depth of my love for you," he pushes in and claims her parted mouth. _God's wounds this more glorious than I imagined._

His kisses and stroke are long, elegant and relentless. Abbie raises one thigh high and tight around his waist and twists their right legs together. When he finally releases her mouth she chants the mantra she held captive in her heart for much too long, "I love you…I adore you…I cannot get enough of you," she whimpers while a tsunami of orgasms take hold of her body.

Her declaration of love unleashes an unrepentant beast. Crane widens his stance, rises up on the balls of his feet, and gripes the stair above with both hands pounding at a manic rate. "Our bond knows not of time, space, realm or form…eternity-our love for eternity," he shouts as wave upon wave of orgasm rushes from him. He collapses from his knees. His jerking body lies upon her.

"Dear God that was everything," she exhales in exhaustion.

He catches his breath, "Lieutenant may I humbly request to remain in your heart?"

Abbie strokes his hair, "Absolutely. I am never letting you go."

* * *

Crane and Abbie remained on the stairs talking into the night. She nestles into his lap. They share all that had been left unsaid. Laughing at all the obvious moments they ignored and denied. The doorbell rings and both heads turn slowly. "Treasure, please retire for the evening. I will join you in due time," he directs.

"Crane, why don't…"he raises his hand and halts her request.

"I need to be clear with him from this moment forward," he explains.

Abbie takes his face in her hands and kisses him slowly her tongue leaving a love sonnet in his mouth. She stumbles up the stairs-her body still recovering from her love hangover.

Crane steps into his pants and pulls his shirt back on shaking his chestnut locks into place. He crosses the room and opens the door. He leaves one hand on the inside knob and stands at attention, "Director Reynolds may I inquire why you are at our threshold during an hour identified for rest?"

Danny's mouth falls open and his brows rise in shock. Ichabod Crane stands before him displaying smug satisfaction. "I need to see Abbie," he stutters attempting to step into the house.

"Director Reynolds these are not business hours. Did she request your presence? Did you call and seek her permission? Are you choosing to abuse your power and authority over a subordinate?" he questions rapidly his left brow rising higher with each statement.

"I…no…wanted to check…her well being," Danny stammers.

"Since I and I alone am intimately aware of her activities this evening and every one hereafter I will save you the trouble of falsehoods or disingenuous statements," Crane clarifies.

"Are you calling me a liar," Danny is arrogant and pissed.

"To be clear, I am calling you out completely. There is nothing here for you now or ever. Please respect the sanctity of our bond. Good morrow," Crane shuts the door firmly. He retrieves their clothes strewn about the floor and ascends the stairs at a jaunty pace.

He enters her bedroom, disrobes and climbs in bed. Abbie turns and coils her body around him. "Did you enjoy that," she laughs.

"Immensely," he smiles down at her broadly.

 **The End**


	2. Chapter 2

**Witness Conception**

 **Canonish/AU**

Pandora calls to Abbie, tempting and taunting until she steps into the box. Ichabod watches horrified. _She has sacrificed enough. I shall not lose her again. Not when our eternal love is this obvious._ He leaps into the box and embraces her body to him. He holds her head to his chest with his large, gentle hand. "My heart belongs to you and I will not walk this journey alone," he declares.

"If this is my last breathe, know that I love and have loved you with my whole heart," Abbie returns with equal passion gripping his shoulders under his coat.

They hold fast to each other and their declared love enduring the evil forces violently swirling around until hope takes root within them and expels them from the box. They land across the room and against a wall. The box seals evil away from humanity and reduces Pandora and The Hidden One to dust and ash.

* * *

Abbie and Ichabod gasp and jolt awake. Their legs are tangled together and they are clutching each other in desperation. Jenny clamors into the chambers, "Thank God…I thought I lost you both," she cries.

"We made it-together," Abbie rasps from underneath Crane.

He lifts himself off her sprawled body to allow her to breath, "I believe our witness bond and dare I say our love enhanced our ability to survive," Crane explains.

"Finally…say that again for those that don't believe in the back," Jenny laughs through her tears.

They return home and drag their battle weary bodies up the stairs and fall into the nearest bed. Abbie curls into his embrace and Ichabod tucks her under his chin. They surrender to slumber. The only sounds within the room: their steady breathing and a rhythmic heartbeat.

* * *

The changes are subtle. She worked a crime scene with forensic specialist who explained the significance of the blood splatter pattern. "Thank you, but," Abbie interrupted by raising her hand with an index finger extended.

The team worked in the Archives researching a ceremonial knife Jenny recovered. Ichabod launched into a historical rant of epic length. Abbie hopped onto the table before him, ran her fingers through his chestnut waves kissing him slow and tender halting his speech. He responded to the group when she released his mouth, "Forgive my excessive explanation. I am confident you grasped the significance without the detailed back story." They snickered in amusement.

Crane and Abbie stood in the men's section of TJ Maxx. "The nightgown and smalls have got to go. This is nothing like the 'Devil's trousers'. The fabric is soft and roomy. We both know you need the room," she smirks.

"Very well, after thorough examination I will select the appropriate alternatives," he looks down at her smiling face. _There is nothing I will not do to keep a smile on her face._

She reaches into his coat and caresses his ass, "Thank you Baby. I need tee's…meet you up front."

Secure in the dressing room, Abbie struggles to pull on yet another t-shirt before looking at her reflection in the full length mirror. She notices her already ample breast spill over, and out the sides of the bra. The button on her jeans is one sneeze away from bursting off and flying across the room. She squints her eyes closed and turns to the side. She peeks one eye open and stares at her protruding belly. _Clearly I have not been paying attention._

 **TBC…maybe…you decide**


	3. Chapter 3

**Witness Conception**

 **Part II**

Crane emerges from the shower and prepares for an evening in with his beloved. He descends the stairs in his plain light blue boxers, covered by plaid pajama pants barely hanging on to his narrow hips and a navy t-shirt. "Does this evening attire meet with your approval?" he announces entering the room

Abbie stands in the middle of the room with the light from the fire dancing across her glistening brown skin. "I think we have bigger thing to discuss," she states.

His eyes start with her lush, muscular thighs that grip his hips right before her release. His lids lift to her breast now a full cup size larger and so much more sensitive to his tongue, lips and touch. Finally his eyes rest on her ever expanding belly and the glorious wonder he believed it nurtured. "We appear to be with child," he smiles adoringly.

"You say that so casually…clearly you recognized the changes before me," she challenges.

"I do have the benefit of an eidetic memory," he quips.

Abbie looks to the ceiling and sighs heavily.

"Lieutenant is this new development in our relationship not pleasing to you?" disappointment is evident in his tone.

"I am overwhelmed…how will we manage in the midst of the war between good and evil?" she exhales. "How will I keep our child safe?"

"First," he raises his finger, "I must implore you to accept that you are no longer alone. I know you have endured so much without benefit of a partner, but that is no longer your reality. I, Ichabod Crane, pledge my head, heart and soul to loving and protecting you, this child and the others we are blessed with in this life and the next. Have I been remiss in the demonstration of my devotion?" he moves to her and delivers a gentle embrace cradling her head in his hand.

The tears arrive before she can stop them. "No," she responds against his chest. Abbie looks up into his dazzling blue eyes that are filled with more love that she thought possible in one human being and finally accepts with certainty that all of that loved and often declared devotion belongs to her and now their child. She moves her hand to his face.

"I, Grace Abigail Mills, pledge all that I am or will ever be to loving and protecting you, this child and all the children our love will produce-so help me God," she rises up and kisses him tenderly.

"So we are of one accord?" he clarifies.

"Indeed," she responds with conviction. They remain quiet safe in each other embrace; allowing the significance of their vows to each other to rest within their hearts. Finally Abbie breaks the silence, "We have got to do better at communicating the obvious," she laughs.

"I am in accordance. For example, when I apply a kiss here," he places a kiss behind her left ear," your head falls back allowing me to place kisses along your neck. Crane demonstrates.

Before she is too far gone Abbie returns his worship, "Yes and when I stroke you with a swirling motion," she slides her and inside his boxers, "We both benefit from your rock hard cock that I plan to ride until sunrise," moves them toward the couch.

Crane is panting, pulling off his t-shirt trying to withstand the magnificent hand job she is delivering.

Abbie continues her swirling motion with one hand while tugging down his pajama pants and boxers with the other. _Maybe the night gown is a good idea._

They land on the couch with a thud. She climbs up into his lap and guides cock into her inch by wonderful inch. She strokes and undulated straddling his waist, "Are you my noble, brave stallion? Do you like the way I ride you?" she leans forward and whispers in his ear.

Crane grips her hips fiercely, "I am your beast." He thrust upward with determination and force until her eyes roll back and she grabs fast to his locks and pulls his face into her heaving breast.

* * *

Hours later Crane's head slumps back against the back of the couch. The back of Abbie's head lies against his shoulder. "Hold still," he instructs as he lifts Abbie and pull out slowly. The only noise is their exhausted breathes punctuated by the sound of suction and a pop. He places her on the couch next to him and she slumps over. "I shall retrieve beverages," he informs.

When he returns she is fanning herself, "Damn we are good together."

"Indeed."


End file.
